Eternal
by Laurie M
Summary: A Babylon noir fic. The Christmas season 1949 is kicked off and John and Della start it as they mean to go on.


Disclaimer: All of the usual stuff - _Babylon 5_ is owned by J Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Productions™ and Warners™.

Author's Note: The third of five prompts, this is for **ddagent**, who prompted some John/Della and an advent calendar.

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**Eternal**

**By**

**Laurie M**

_New York, 1 December 1949_

When I found John that evening he was admiring the advent calendar that had been put in its traditional place of honour on a low table between two poinsettias and a host of tea-lights. To call it merely an advent calendar was doing it a disservice: it was a little wooden structure whose design appeared to have been inspired by a gingerbread house; Drahl had brought it over with him from Geneva when he had first come to America and it had been part of Christmas ever since I was a child. Behind its twenty-five doors and windows were little hollows to be filled with treats and surprises - and each year Maya and I would diligently divide the spoils between us. Maya now had her own home to enjoy and her own traditions to begin, but in my house Drahl's calendar still held sway.

I closed the door behind me, keeping the warmth from the fire from escaping into the hallway; the room flickered in fire- and candlelight, the only steadiness the soft glow of one lamp. John turned as I approached, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smile; his eyes moved down to my feet.

'Where's Archie?'

'Tired out for once - he's all curled up and fast asleep.'

'Any hope that he's in his basket? Or is he on our bed?'

'Do you mean his bed that he occasionally allows us to use?'

He laughed a little. 'Oh yeah - what was I thinking?'

I walked across to him, circled his arm with both my hands and laid my head on his shoulder. His head turned a few inches and I felt his lips against my hair.

'You look lovely. You know that's my favourite dress of yours?'

'It's my dressing gown.'

'It's still my favourite.'

I squeezed his arm and he kissed me again.

It was a peaceful scene: the only sounds were the ticking clock, the crackle and spit of the fire and quiet breathing.

'Isn't it about time you opened one of the doors?' John asked. 'Or are you going to try and pretend that you're too sophisticated for the gig?'

'I never pretend to be sophisticated,' I started - and regretted it as soon as I said it.

'That's good, 'cos you'd never pull it off.'

'Thank-you.'

'Anytime.'

'You can expect ashes in your stocking this year. And a birch switch.'

John disengaged me from his arm, slipping one of his hands into mine. 'Come on, plaything, it's time to kick off the season.'

It was probably not sophisticated, but I still felt a certain excitement as I knelt down by the table, my eye-line now level with the wooden house. It's paintwork had been retouched, I noticed - the green shutters and red doors were clearer, the white window frames brighter. Even the gilt on the tiny knobs was more burnished. John sprawled easily beside me, watching as I pulled open the first door, just as I had each year long before we had ever met. I reached into the dark recess, my fingers finding something cold and hard; in the diffuse light it glittered on the end of a small length of satin ribbon. An unbroken circlet of diamonds set in what looked like white gold. I stared at it wordlessly, then raised my eyes to John's face without moving my head. He still leaned beside me, a study in elegant casualness; but now I noticed the line of tension running along his shoulders.

'It's an eternity ring,' he said, his face half in shadow. His eyes glittered.

'Yes. I- I know what it is.' My throat felt thick, pressure suddenly behind my eyes and I blinked rapidly.

'You didn't have an engagement ring,' he continued, sitting up and taking it from me, pulling the ribbon away and slipping the band onto my finger until it rested above the last - and first - ring he had given me. 'I wanted to give it to you before now but, well, it just took a little longer than I thought.'

We rarely discuss money: as far as I am concerned what I have belongs to both of us and John can do with it as he wishes; but this, the ring, he had paid for with money he had earned himself.

'Well, look at that,' he said softly, 'it fits.'

'John.' I took his face between my hands. 'You don't have to buy me things to prove to me that you love me; I already know that you love me.'

He moved the hair back from my shoulder, his thumb caressing the curve of my neck. 'I know that, sweetheart; but I wanted to.'

'It's so beautiful.' I shifted, settling over him and he put his arm around my waist, holding me steady. 'Thank-you.' I kissed him and he held me hard against him; when it stopped it took a few moments before I realised that it had - it had been that sort of kiss. I pulled back just far enough to see his face clearly. 'I feel terrible, though - I don't have anything to give you.'

He smiled again - that slow smile that crinkled his eyes and warmed his face and held so many promises. 'I have everything that I want right here.'

I smiled in turn and took possession of his lips again. 'I see. Well. That should make you ... very ... easy to buy for.'

'You don't have to ... go to ... any trouble ... on my account. You know what the ... best part of a present is anyway?'

I made a vague noise. His hands moved to the belt of my gown.

'Unwrapping it.' The knot gave way under his fingers.

I shivered slightly as the cooler air in the room met my now exposed skin; it was followed immediately by the warmth of his hands. 'That's the best part?'

'Well...' He smiled again, with a wholly different sort of promise and moved us both until I was cradled beneath him. 'Maybe not the absolutely best part.'

_**Fin**_


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